在鄰居家上鋼琴課，跟J先生和J太太。

Piano lesson at the neighbors’, Mr. and Mrs. J.

我第一次去他家公寓，

I’m in their apartment for the first time,

那味道與我家裏不同（我們家沒有味道，

which smells different from ours (ours has no smell,

起碼我這樣認為）。到處鋪著地毯，

or so I think). Everywhere carpets,

厚厚的波斯地毯。我知道他們是亞美尼亞人，

thick Persian carpets. I know that they’re Armenians,

但並不懂其中含義。亞美尼亞人擁有地毯，

but don’t know what that means. Armenians have carpets,

空氣中灰塵彌漫，那是從利沃夫

dust wanders through the air, imported

進口來的，中世紀的灰塵。

from Lvov, medieval dust.

我們沒有地毯，沒有中世紀。

We don’t have carpets or Middle Ages.

我們不知道自己是誰——也許是漫遊者。

We don’t know who we are—maybe wanderers.

有時我想，我們並不存在。只有他人存在。

Sometimes I think we don’t exist. Only others are.

鄰居家的音效好極了。

The acoustics are great in our neighbors’ apartment.

公寓裏十分安靜。鋼琴立在屋中

It’s quiet in this apartment. A piano stands in the room

像一隻懶洋洋被馴服的野獸——在它的內裏，

like a lazy, tamed predator—and in it,

最中心的地方，棲居著音樂的黑球。

at its very heart, dwells music’s black ball.

剛上過一兩堂課，J太太就告訴我

Mrs. J told me right after the first

我還是去學語言為好

or second lesson that I should take up languages

因為我沒有音樂天賦。

since I showed no talent for music.

我沒有音樂天賦。

I show no talent for music.

我應當去學語言。

I should take up languages instead.

音樂將永遠在別處，

Music will always be elsewhere,

望塵莫及，在別人家裏。

inacessible, in someone else’s apartment.

黑球將永遠藏在別處，

The black ball will be hidden elsewhere,

但可能有另外的相遇和啟發。

but there may be other meetings, revelations.

我回到家中，垂著腦袋，

I went home, hanging my head,

有點難過，有點高興——家，

a little saddened, a little glad—home,

這裏沒有波斯味道，惟有業餘的油畫，

where there was no smell of Persia, only amateur paintings,

水彩畫，我心懷苦澀和愉悅

watercolors, and I thought with bitterness and pleasure

想到我擁有的惟有語言，詞語，意象，

that I had only language, only words, images,

惟有這世界。

only the world.